


Hurts So Good

by sentinel28II



Series: One Night in Atlas [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Possible Season 7 spoilers, Slap and tickle, What is going on in Atlas?, but they're cute together, snowbird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentinel28II/pseuds/sentinel28II
Summary: Before all this started, Qrow Branwen called on Winter Schnee.  She hasn't forgiven him for Beacon, and she doesn't want to see him.Or does she?  Perhaps the lady doth protest too much.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Winter Schnee
Series: One Night in Atlas [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575496
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Hurts So Good

**Author's Note:**

> Qrow and Winter have always been something of an odd pairing, but they prove the old adage of opposites attract. I'm surprised there hasn't been more interaction between them in Season 7 (Qrow's been hugged by Ironwood more than Winter at this point). Hopefully that'll change as we go forward, because they're a great couple. Things may seem to get a bit rough between them in this story, but stick around. Qrow loves to tease, and Winter's found a way to turn the tables. 
> 
> There's a few references to RWBY Chibi in this story, since that more or less confirmed Qrow and Winter as a ship. As Ozpin said (and lied about!), flirting was a lot less destructive in his day. Also, a tip of the hat to the late, great George MacDonald Fraser of "Flashman" fame and Adam Warren's "Empowered," both of which inspired some of this fic.

_Atlas Academy_

_Atlas, World of Remnant_

_Two Years After the Fall of Beacon_

_Two Hours Before Blake Goes to Yang_

Winter Schnee yawned, then leaned back in her chair. Reports were always mind-numbing, but they were necessary. Still, she could think of better things to read than the requisition requests of the Atlesian 3rd Division, responsible for securing the southern tundra. Winter decided to indulge herself a little, and leaned back further to put her socks up on the desk. She picked up a glass, swirled the red wine, and took a sip. _Sipping wine in my socks,_ Winter thought with a morose smile. _Well, not quite as bad as Mother, I suppose._ Willow Schnee tended to drink straight from the bottle, and didn’t drink wine, but the harder liquors. 

All things considered, Weiss thought, it had not been a bad day. They had solved what had happened to the stolen airship from Argus, recovered the Relic of Knowledge, and best of all, brought Beacon’s lost teams back into the fold: Team RWBY and JNPR. JNR now, she corrected herself. 

But best of all, Weiss Schnee was home.

It would take much for Winter to admit it publicly, but she had missed her sister greatly. When Weiss had been brought back to Atlas by force by their father, Winter knew it had broken her younger sister. Weiss wanted to be out with her friends, facing the same challenges, protecting them, and Winter had pleaded with her father to let Weiss go. Jacques Schnee had refused: since Winter had left the family to pursue her military career, it would fall to Weiss to carry the Schnee Dust Company into the future. By which, Winter knew, Weiss would be kept as a symbol, a new Lady in the Tower, and possibly married off as a brood mare to some prominent Atlesian politician with ties the SDC needed. Winter had joined the military to avoid that very fate. When Weiss had managed to escape, Winter had inwardly cheered, and quietly diverted Atlesian military search parties in the wrong direction. Her sister had disappeared, though she was quickly reported in Haven, then disappeared again off the train to Argus.

Now she was back home, and Winter was very glad of that fact. Keeping her out of their father’s machinations would be difficult, but Weiss wasn’t alone now. Team RWBY would defend their friend and teammate to the death, and wouldn’t be afraid to bring Atlas down around Jacques Schnee’s ears if that was what it took. Winter had originally not thought much of Weiss’ friends—the immature Ruby Rose, her blowhard half-sister Yang Xiao Long, and the Faunus former terrorist Blake Belladonna—but she had grown to respect them. Team RWBY were no longer those labels, but tough, skilled warriors, as tight-knit as a family and nearly as deadly as Ace Ops. If nothing else, Winter looked forward to hearing Team RWBY’s tales, and catching up with her sister—about the only family Winter truly had left.

There was a knock at her door. 

Winter turned in her chair, confused. It was after ten at night; normally she retired around eleven at the latest. If there was an emergency, her Scroll would have went off, probably along with the alarms. She put down the wineglass, got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

Standing there, with a maddening half-smile on his lips, was Qrow Branwen.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Winter demanded. She lived in a wing of Atlas Academy, opposite from where the student dorms were, and was very well-guarded.

“Duh,” Qrow replied, in that gravelly voice that always sounded to her like he’d gargled with razor blades. “I can turn into a bird.”

She’d forgotten about that. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you. It’s been, what, two years or so?”

“I hadn’t been keeping track.” She gripped the door, almost as if she was in danger of falling. “Go away.”

The smile broadened. “Aw, come on, Ice Queen. You missed me.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “With every shot so far, but my aim is improving.”

“You gonna let me in? I flew all the way here from Mantle, and boy, are my arms tired.”

She rolled her eyes. Weiss had written Winter once about Yang’s godawful puns, and now Winter knew where she got the habit. “I want to know more about the Relic, and about Weiss. Tell me that, and I’ll let you in. Once you’re done, you’ll leave, or I’ll have you arrested.”

“I can turn into a bird,” he repeated. “You really think cuffs can hold me?”

“Can you turn into a bird if I’ve kicked you in the balls first?”

“Love it when you talk dirty,” Qrow said, and walked in, hunched over as usual, shutting the door behind him. Winter graced him with one of her trademark glacial looks, one that could freeze the sun, and walked with him into the central area of her quarters. He gave a low whistle. “This is nice.” It was: Winter’s quarters consisted of a small living room, an office, tiny kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. Not surprisingly, it was spartan, but spotlessly clean. Her only nod to recreation was the shelves of books on military history and theory, and the small fireplace that sparked nicely and filled the room with a nice smell. Her sabre was above the mantle. 

“I suppose you want a drink.” She opened a small sideboard and pulled out a bottle of Mistrali bourbon.

“Actually,” Qrow admitted, “I stopped drinking.”

Winter’s eyebrows raised, and for a moment, she actually looked impressed. She put the bourbon back, went into the kitchen, and came out with two soda bottles. She handed one to him and pointed to one of the two chairs in the living room. “Sit. And start talking.” She ostentatiously checked her watch.

Qrow sat. As instructed, he began talking about Weiss first, knowing well and good that was what Winter was really interested in; the Relic was just an excuse. He started with what he’d learned from Yang in Haven—about how Weiss had been brought down by Grimm and captured by his twin sister Raven, how Yang had arrived and convinced her mother to deliver them to Haven, and the battle with Cinder Fall and Salem’s forces. Winter’s soda fell from her fingers when Qrow described how Weiss had been run through with a spear thrown by Cinder; it clattered to the carpeted floor, and Qrow had to break off his story while she hurriedly cleaned it up. The rest of the story was not much better after that—the trip to Argus, the attack of the Apathy Grimm at Brunswick Farms, the fight outside Argus.

When Qrow finished about an hour later, Winter was alternately proud of her sister and horrified. “She almost died,” she whispered to herself, almost forgetting Qrow was in the room.

“She would’ve if Jaune hadn’t discovered his Semblance right then. You better thank that boy.”

“I will,” she remarked. Winter suddenly brought a fist down on arm of her chair; Qrow barely reacted. He knew Winter had a close leash on an explosive temper, but expected the knowledge that her sister was lucky to be alive would unleash that temper. When Yang had lost her arm, Qrow had smashed a bar glass or two. “That bitch,” Winter snarled. “Cinder Fall. I’ll feed her to her own Grimm.”

“Probably won’t have to. Raven said that she turned Cinder into an icicle and threw her off a cliff.”

“Did you ever find a body?”

“Didn’t look.”

“Until I see her smoking bones, I’ll assume the overpowered whore is still alive.”

Qrow had also noticed that Winter had an acid tongue when her temper flared. “If she’s alive, she isn’t happy. My sister is a lot of things, but she’s thorough.”

“She’s also a coward.”

Qrow shrugged. It was a fair assessment of Raven Branwen, and he’d given up trying to defend his sister’s actions when she had left Taiyang with a screaming infant. Talking about his charges almost dying and his sister put him in a sour mood. He glanced at the sideboard, and his mouth watered at the thought of the bourbon. _No,_ he commanded himself. He’d drank himself into insensibility at Argus, and at Brunswick Farms; at the latter, his drinking might have gotten his nieces killed. Qrow didn’t want to be in a sour mood; it was not what he was here for.

“So you want to know about the Relic.” He tossed off the rest of the soda. “Thought you’d studied those.”

“I have,” Winter answered. “But it’s one thing to read legends about them. It’s quite another to talk to someone who’s actually acquired one.”

Qrow did not want to talk about the Relic. For one thing, Ruby had flat out lied to Ironwood about Jinn being unable to answer any more questions. He understood why she kept that knowledge, because Jimmy Ironwood might just waste that one question. For another, it would mean telling Winter some things about Ozpin that Qrow himself was still processing. How would Winter react to the knowledge that Ozpin had lied to them? Yes, he’d had reasons, but he had still lied. How about the knowledge that Salem could not be killed? Qrow smiled. _Heh. Winter would probably take that as a challenge._ That was one of the many things he admired about her. “What are you smiling about?” Winter snapped.

“Oh, just thinking.”

“That’s a first.” 

Qrow’s smile broadened. It was time. “I was thinking,” he said again.

“Do I have to guess? What about?” she demanded.

“You.”

Qrow’s single word had exactly the effect he’d intended. Winter blinked. “What about me?”

“Just that you never cease to amaze me. Look at ya.” He motioned a hand at her. “It’s late, you gotta be getting ready for bed soon, and you’re still wearing that uniform. You took the jacket off, and that’s it. You know, your pants’ creases look like I could shave with them.”

“You could use a shave,” Winter said.

He ignored that. “You’ve melted a bit there, Ice Queen—“

“Quit calling me that.”

He ignored that, too. “It was damn well heartwarming to see you hug your sister today. Weiss worships the ground you walk on, you know that? She wants to be like you. And by the gods, she’s doing it. But she isn’t quite there yet.” He looked in the soda bottle, finished off the dregs. “If we’d had you at Haven, you would’ve taken Cinder’s head off.” 

“I appreciate the compliment, Qrow, but you’re leading up to something. What is it you really want?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asked. “I want _you_ , Winter.”

Winter blinked again, then looked briefly nauseous. “I _beg_ your pardon?”

“I didn’t stutter, Winter. I’m glad I was able to tell you about Weiss—you didn’t really give a shit about the Relic; you just wanted to know if she was okay—but I came here for you.” Winter took a long drink of soda. Qrow fought down a snicker; he could see the slight blush on her cheeks. “Ahh, come on. You remember that night at Beacon.”

Winter coughed and nearly choked. She cleared her throat and laughed derisively. “You mean the night of the biggest mistake of my life?”

“I thought it went rather well.”

“I was drunk, Qrow! You’d pissed me off by fighting me to a draw—“

“Beating you, you mean.”

“Shut up!” she yelled. “Then I went to the bar for a nightcap, and you showed up, and challenged me to that idiot game of darts.”

“Which you lost.” It had been a drinking game: for every time they missed the center ring and the bullseye, they would have to take a drink. Not only was Qrow’s tolerance for alcohol much higher than Winter’s, he was also the best darts player in the history of Beacon Academy. He’d drank the rest of Team STRQ under the table several times playing darts. Winter posed little challenge, compared to Raven and Taiyang, though Summer Rose was always a lightweight.

“I said shut up! Next thing I know, we’re in your room!” She slammed the soda down on the small table that lay between them. “Uggh. The memory of waking up next to you the next morning is enough to make me ill.”

This time Qrow did laugh. “Yep. It was so bad that you banged me then, too. I have to admit, Winter, I was _not_ expecting to be woke up with a blowjob.”

“You son of a bitch!” Winter kicked him in the heel, and Qrow winced with the pain. He knew if they weren’t in her own quarters, she likely would use her Semblance to summon a Grimm to devour him. She leapt to her feet. “Get the hell out!”

Qrow made no move to stand, though he did massage his heel. “Winter, I wasn’t that bad.”

She stared at him. “Hmpf. I don’t remember much of that night, so it must not have been that good. I probably didn’t even feel you.”

“The way you were screaming? You were feeling something.”

She pointed to the door. “I told you to get out.”

“But baby, it’s cold outside!” Qrow protested, grinning.

Winter’s eyes blazed. “Either get out,” she said in a voice as icy as the Atlas tundra, “or I swear I will cut off your head and mount it on a pole outside Atlas Academy as a warning to others.”

“That’s an awfully specific threat.” Qrow made no move to get up. 

Winter grabbed the back of Qrow’s chair and threw it backwards. He grabbed the arms of the chair and held on as it toppled to the floor. Winter stood over him, fists clenched, face reddened in rage. “Get up,” she hissed. “Get up and get out of my house.”

“Is that an order?” He put his hands behind his head. “You know, I think it’s sexy as hell to be ordered around by a woman.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Winter warned darkly. “Slowly.” 

“Okay,” Qrow said. He got to his feet, set the chair back up, and brushed off his pants, but remained standing there. “You’re not leaving,” she pointed out.

“I thought you were going to kill me. Slowly.” Qrow leaned close to her. “I’m okay with that, but I want a kiss first.”

“I’d rather kiss a Grimm.”

“Not a bad idea. They have long tongues.” He leaned closer. “I have a long tongue, as you know.”

“I’ll cut it out. That should cure your problem.” Winter stood her ground.

“Now, that’s just mean. Especially as you know what I can _do_ with that tongue.”

“Fuck you,” Winter snarled.

“That’s the idea.” He was now only two inches from her lips. Those full, pale lips. Damn, but she was attractive, Qrow thought. The way her hair was slightly loosened over her ears. Her perfect skin. Those blue eyes he just wanted to swim in, though he knew he’d freeze to death. The fact that she could kick his ass. “You’re not exactly fighting me off here, Ice Queen.”

“I’m only waiting for you to get close enough so I can bite something off.”

“Ooh, kinky.” And with that, Qrow went for the kill. He pressed his lips to Winter’s. They were cool, but moist. He half-expected her to just stand there, let him kiss her, and then push him away. She didn’t do that. She responded. Not much, but she responded. Qrow smiled through the kiss, and brought his hands up to her hair, running his fingers through the white strands.

Qrow heard a click, and felt something cold and metal against his groin. He broke the kiss and looked down to see a dagger pressed against his zipper, an Atlesian military issue gravity knife. Where she’d produced that from he had no idea. He sighed and stepped back. “All right,” he sighed. “You made your point, Winter. I’ll leave.”

“You do that.”

Inwardly cursing—he wasn’t sure if he’d misread her completely, put her off with his bantering, or it was just his damned bad luck Semblance rearing its head again—Qrow turned and shuffled towards the door. His hand was on the knob when suddenly the knife buried itself in the door only a few inches from his ear. He whirled. “Winter, what the hell—“

She stood there with a smile on her face, arm extended from the throw. “Dust, you look stupid.” She took a step forward, and reached up to the bun of hair atop her head. A quick movement of fingers, and the bun collapsed, letting Winter’s hair drift free to her back. It changed her appearance completely from the prim, uptight, all-business Colonel of Atlas to a gorgeous, flesh and blood woman. “Not surprising, since you _are_ stupid.” Next her fingers went to the cravat at her throat. She undid that, taking off the tie, and letting it flutter to the ground. “A stupid fool who needs a shave, and electric shocks to modify your behavor.” She opened the collar. “Thinking you could just walk into my house, in my kingdom, and just seduce me. Who do you think you are?” She unbuttoned the blouse, a button with every step. “I’ll tell you. You really are scum.” She flung the blouse off, exposing a white lacy bra. Weiss was trying hard to be like her older sister, but it would be awhile before she caught up to the spectacular superstructure of Winter Schnee. “Gutter, drunken, backwoods…scum.” 

Winter stood in front of him. Her smile had become predatory. She pulled the knife from the door and waved it under his nose, forcing him back until he was flattened against her door. The blade got closer until it was resting against his chin. “That’s what you are, Qrow Branwen.” The blade flicked and Qrow flinched, but she had only taken off a little stubble. Then she raised it, and for a wild second Qrow thought he was going to end his days being stabbed to death by a former lover—which, actually, was not that surprising of an end. Instead of the knife going into Qrow, it went into the door instead. “And I’ve missed you terribly.”

Winter grabbed Qrow’s face with both hands and kissed him hard enough that his head hit the door. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, licked at his teeth, then everywhere else. She pulled back slowly, licking her lips. “Stupid ass,” she growled, though she was still smiling. “Coming in here with your cheesy pickup lines. Were you seriously trying to anger me into sex?”

“Well, uh….seems to have worked…”

“Oh, most definitely.” She kissed him again. “But you made a tactical mistake, Qrow. You assumed that I didn’t want you.” Another kiss, this time on his chin. “When I’ve been thinking about you ever since that night.” A third kiss, now on his neck. “And all you had to do was ask.”

“You’re kidding,” Qrow said. “You mean this whole time, you _wanted_ me to seduce you?”

“Duh,” she replied, throwing his words back at him. “And you managed to screw that up too.” She laughed. “Are you going to stand there like the fool you are?” She reached down, under his untucked shirt, grabbed the belt buckle, and snapped it off. “Do I have to do all the work, as usual?”

“Hell no,” he growled, sunk his hands into that wonderful hair, and dragged Winter back to his lips. Now it was his tongue who invaded her mouth, but she counterattacked on all fronts. His hands sought a handhold, ran down her hair, and fell to her rear, nicely clad in the tight military pants. She gave a dirty laugh through the kiss when he squeezed. Her fingers deftly unzipped his pants, dived past the waistband of his boxers, and seized hold of his stiffening member. He broke off trying to fight off her tongue long enough to chortle, “Didn’t even feel me, huh?”

“Oh, aren’t we full of ourselves?” She let go, grabbed his boxers, and shoved them down to his knees. She took his hands off her butt, dropped to one knee, and inspected his erection, which now stood straight out from his body. “Hmm,” she said with a smirk, “I’d say that’s six inches by the old Vale system that you hicks from Patch use, if that. At best average, Qrow.”

Qrow knew that was a damned lie—he was eight inches; one of his one-night stands in Vacuo kept a ruler by her bed, and not entirely for measuring. He was about to say something when Winter leaned forward and kissed the swollen head. It bounced in response, and whatever Qrow was going to say was quickly forgotten, remembering the morning at Beacon. But Winter only laughed again, got back to her feet, and licked her lips teasingly. “Oh, you thought I was going to blow you right off the bat? And have you come on my face, you sick bastard!”

“You talk too damn much,” Qrow growled back. He reached out, seized the front clasp of Winter’s bra, and tore it off. Both halves separated and fell to the floor, exposing Winter’s breasts. Her uniform tended to hide them, but they were large, with dime-sized nipples that seemed out of proportion. She gasped at his temerity. Qrow seized a double handful of her bounties, stuck his face between them, and let out a loud _“Brrrrr!”_

Winter squeaked and then cuffed him on the side of the head. Qrow just did it again, and harder, making her breasts jiggle and sending rather interesting vibrations to the nipples. Winter gulped at the sensation, then reasserted herself. Qrow wasn’t going to beat her _that_ easily. She grabbed his hair and pulled him free. “Hey, watch the hair!” he protested. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Like anyone would notice!” She pointed to the bra. “That was a hundred lien bra, you prick!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He bent over and put a kiss on each nipple, which were already very hard. 

“You can’t afford it!” Winter grabbed the top of his shirt and ripped straight downwards. Buttons popped off like a machine gun. “Hey!” Qrow was genuinely upset at that. “That was my best shirt!”

“Oh, right.” She leaned forward and kissed _his_ nipples. “You don’t _have_ a best shirt.”

Qrow shrugged off the remains of the shirt—it was getting in the way—and took hold of the front of her pants. He didn’t try to tear them off, as he knew he could only get away with so much. He fumbled with the button, got that loose, then the zipper, but he couldn’t get her out of the pants. He thought about telling Winter her butt was too big, but one, it wasn’t true, and two, she would probably kill him for it. “Let me do that,” she snapped at him. “Dust, but you’re a dumbass.” She pulled the pants off, shimmied out of them, and kicked them aside. Now the only articles of clothing she had left were her socks and her panties. Qrow wolf-whistled appreciatively at them. “A thong? Wow. I genuinely did not expect that.” The black lace was Vacuo cut, running up over her hips in a nice curve. He craned his neck past her side and saw that the lace dived into the cleft of her beautifully-shaped derriere. He nodded, impressed, then returned his attention to the front. 

To his surprise, Winter looked embarrassed. “I need something that makes me feel like a woman. It’s not like I’m wearing some military-issue beige things.”

He held her breasts again. “You certainly feel like a woman to me. I’d forgotten how beautiful you are.”

Her blush got worse. “Thank you,” she said quietly, then looked up into his reddish eyes. “You shapeshifting weirdo. You gonna shapeshift on me in the middle of this and run away?” She tossed her hair in contempt. “That’s the problem with you Branwens. No balls.”

“I’ll show you balls.” Qrow grabbed Winter by the shoulders, with enough force that she’d thought she might have pushed him too far by insulting his family. He spun her around, put her up against the wall, then grabbed a handful of the thong.

“Don’t you _dare_ tear that off!” she shouted. “I paid a hundred lien for that, too!”

“Sorry,” he said, and carefully drew off the panties. She stepped out of them, and arched an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. “You were going to show me balls, Qrow Branwen?”

He was more than at full mast now. “You’re damn right.” He spread her legs, reached up to touch on that nub he knew so well, and stopped when he realized he was not feeling the coarse hair he expected to. “Winter? When did you start shaving down here? I mean, I like it, but…”

“It itched,” she shot back. “Are you going to keep up the running commentary about my body, or are you going to do something with that inadequate thing between your legs?”

“Quit insulting my dick!”

“Then use it, you moron!”

Qrow grabbed her shoulders—from behind this time—and she spread her legs further for him. Qrow could see from the swollen and glistening lips that Winter needed no further encouragement, or lubrication. As tempting as it was to put every bit of force behind it, he enjoyed sliding it slowly in a lot more. 

“ _Aaahhh,_ ” Winter groaned. Qrow took it slower, afraid to hurt her, despite the rough talk, but she practically hummed under him. He leaned forward, covering her back with himself, and kissed the spot behind her ear he remembered she loved. Winter shivered. “You okay?” he teased. His hands found her breasts and squeezed gently. 

“I don’t know,” she grinned savagely at him. “Is it in?”

“You know it is.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it, because I can’t feel a—“ Qrow pulled most of the way out, then thrust back in. Winter hissed and shivered again. 

“You were saying?” Qrow snickered. He gave her a few more thrusts to be sure.

She caught her breath with some effort. “You’re not really good at doing this standing up.” In truth, it was Winter who wasn’t very good at it. The wall was solid, and her head was going to bang into it every time he pushed into her. “You _do_ have that bad back.”

“My back’s fine.” He ran his hands down her back, feeling the shoulder blades, the firm muscles from a lifetime of swinging rapiers and killing Grimm, then slapped her rear. “So’s yours.”

With her fingers, she pushed him out of her, then turned and faced him. “I think the bed will be more comfortable,” she purred. “If you’re up to it.” She grabbed his erection and stroked it. “At least part of you is, but I’m not sure about the rest.” She let go, teased him with a kiss, then walked towards the bedroom, deliberately sashaying as she did so, wiggling that rear end. Then she turned, beckoning him. Qrow thought there was something damned alluring about those blue socks.

He turned to follow, tripped, and fell. Luckily for him, he twisted to the side so he didn’t land wrong, and break something that would end the night for certain. Winter’s hands went to her mouth, and she ran over to him. “Dust, Qrow, are you all right?” The teasing dropped from her voice entirely.

“Ah, I’m fine.” He reached down and got his pants off completely; in the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten they were around his ankles. “Damn Semblance, more than likely.”

“Or you’re just a klutz.” She helped him to his feet. “Where were we?”

“You were taking me to bed.”

“Ah, yes.” She stroked him again; the fall had softened him a little, but Winter took care of that. “Would you like me to lead you there?” She gave it a little tug.

“I think I got it. We birds have natural homing instincts.” When she turned, he slapped her butt again. Winter gave him that dirty laugh again in response, and glided into her bedroom.

It was small, really just enough for one person, but well done; the bedsheets were so tight that Qrow knew he could bounce a coin off of them. The walls were a soft blue decorated with prints of Atlesian military victories in the Great War— _of course they are,_ he thought—and the only touch that wasn’t military was a framed picture of Winter and Weiss, taken at Beacon. Weiss was laughing at something, while Winter looked on the surface to be perfectly straight faced, yet if one looked close, they could see she was smiling. There were no other pictures of her family. Qrow reached out and gently turned the picture slightly. “Why did you do that?” Winter asked, confused.

“Just don’t want your sister looking at me while we do this.”

“She can’t know. About us. No one should.” Winter shook her head. “Besides, Weiss is still a virgin. She wouldn’t understand. Neither will your nieces, for the same reason.”

Qrow was pretty sure Yang was not a virgin, and hadn’t been for some time; she had too much of the hot-blooded Branwens in her. Ruby was a different story. He hoped.

“General Ironwood would think this to be a conflict of interest.“

Qrow was shooing Winter towards the bed. “Can we _not_ discuss Jimmy or my nieces right now? You wouldn’t like it if we talked about your parents while we were banging.”

Winter snorted. “Who cares what they think.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Qrow wondered if Winter’s attraction to him was partially because it was a way to give a middle finger to her father: what better way to rub her independence in his face than by screwing someone he would think as laughably common? Then he was the one who gave a squeak as Winter slapped _his_ butt. “Pay attention,” she ordered.

“As the Colonel commands.” He made a motion for her to turn around, but she refused. Instead, she lay on her back on the bed, and opened her thighs to him. Winter rubbed her hands on either side of her folds, spread them open, and licked her lips with a half-lidded stare. 

“Hot damn,” Qrow whispered, thanked whatever gods had blessed him with that sight, knew he could die happy now, and guided himself in. She was liquid fire inside, and Qrow, after savoring that for a moment, began thrusting into her. 

“You call that banging?” she asked. Winter pulled him down to her lips. The little cross that Qrow wore around his neck hit her chin, but she did not ask him to take it off—she knew what it signified. She felt the stubble on his chin against her cheeks as he kissed her ears. Qrow was going in and out with maddening slowness. Winter admitted to herself that it felt unbelievably good, but she wanted a bit faster than that. “Put your back into it, Branwen!”

“You got it.” He increased the pace. 

“Harder!”

“Winter—“

“I said _harder,_ dammit!” 

Qrow sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to last long if he did what she wanted, but also knew an order when he heard one. And technically, she _did_ outrank him. Putting both hands on either side of her breasts, Qrow slammed into Winter for all he was worth, praying he wasn’t hurting her. Given her cries and the way she was meeting his thrusts with abandon, he evidently wasn’t. She tucked her feet behind his back, gripped the bedsheets enough to almost tear them, and began tossing her head around in utter ecstasy. Qrow knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. _Dammit!_ he yelled at himself, because he knew that Winter was not there yet, but there was no stopping it now. He pushed all the way in and stopped. “Ah, _Winter!_ ” he exclaimed, and emptied himself into her in great spurts; it had been so long. _Too soon! Damn Semblance! Damn it all!_

Then Winter let out a scream that shook the rafters. Her heels dug into him, and he could feel her grip him inside with a ferocity that surprised him. Her screams died away to gasps, then to soft moans. He pulled out of her, somehow got onto the bed next to her, and fell onto his back, trying to catch his breath. 

The room was filled with hard breathing for a few minutes. Then Winter croaked, “That wasn’t too bad.”

Qrow looked at her incredously. “Not too _bad?_ You almost killed me, woman!”

“Meh.” Winter shrugged. She rolled over and propped herself on one arm. Out of her uniform, her hair down, skin flushed, and of course, the fact that she was nude changed Winter’s appearance completely. She looked younger, though she was by no means old. She ran her fingers across his chest, then froze. “Qrow, did your Semblance actually go off back there when you tripped, or was that just because you forgot your pants were around your ankles?” She kissed his chest. “Fool.”

“It probably was. It went off while we were, well, you know. A minute ago.” At her questioning expression, he sighed. “I came too soon, Winter.”

“I didn’t. Mine was perfectly timed.” She leaned back and stretched langourously, which was quite the sight, then relaxed. “What should we name our child, Qrow?”

_“What?”_

Winter turned to face him again, that savage smile back on her face. “You weren’t wearing a condom, and given all you just poured into me, there’s no way in hell I’m not pregnant.” Qrow looked utterly panicked, and spluttered something. Then he saw the humor in her eyes, and narrowed his eyes. She burst out laughing. “Oh, Qrow, you’re so easy to fool. How have you survived this long?”

“That’s not funny,” Qrow mumbled. “Wait a minute…I _wasn’t_ wearing a…”

“No shit,” she tittered. “I may lose control when I have sex, Qrow, but I wasn’t so out of it to not notice.” She poked him in the chest. “Relax, fool. I get monthly injections. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” He wondered if there had been other men in Winter’s life, and found himself oddly jealous. There was no reason to be; he hadn’t exactly been celibate the past two years. 

“In case you ever flew yourself here.”

“If I’d known you were like this, I would’ve flown here every damn week.” He reached out and kissed her again. “Damn, but you are beautiful. I ain’t worthy.”

“No, you’re not. But you’ll do, Qrow.” She reached down and massaged his flaccid member. “You do rather well.” She grasped the soft shaft and began rubbing it. “I don’t have to be at work early. Care to go again?”

Qrow shook his head. “Winter, I’m lucky to be _alive_ after what we did. I’m not up to it, literally.” He gulped when she took away the hand, and ran her fingers up from her smooth, bald groin to her breasts, the nipples still hard enough to cut ice, and let out a soft, breathy moan. Qrow didn’t know where Winter had learned the art of erotic display, but he would definitely give her a passing grade. “But, you know…give me a little bit.”

“Of course.” She drew herself closer, so they were touching from chest to knees, and rubbed her feet against his. Her eyebrows beetled in confusion. Winter looked down and exploded in laughter. “What?” Qrow asked.

“We’re still wearing our socks.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was a nice helping of Snowbird. 
> 
> In the immortal words of Goldberg--who's next? Well, we'll see. This night isn't over yet.


End file.
